


A moment to stand still

by HeavyDistraction



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavyDistraction/pseuds/HeavyDistraction
Summary: He didn’t really even know what it was exactly that made him ask to be dropped off at Mos Eisley. He had wanted a place where he could pause for a moment to recuperate from everything that had passed. The endless deserts of Tatooine could easily provide a solitary refuge for him to gather his thoughts, he reasoned to himself. Afterwards, it could be easy to find a way to acquire a new ship to replace the Razor Crest — the nest of vice that Mos Eisley was would certainly have multiple choices for potentially high-paying jobs on offer. Glinting at the back of Din’s mind, however, had been bright hazel eyes and a smile that had followed Din in his dreams. He had tried to push aside the achingly tempting thought of being able toreturnsomewhere after finding himself lost and hollow with nothing but unknown and uninviting paths ahead of him.As it stood, however, Din had quickly and perhaps unsurprisingly found himself on the back of a cheap rental speeder bike headed towards Mos Pelgo.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	A moment to stand still

**Author's Note:**

> Felt compelled to write my first ever fic and this is the result.
> 
> Rating is for the later chapters.

The words slipped out of his mouth immediately.

“He’s gone.”

Gone. Gone. _Gone_. The word kept repeating in his head, his thoughts spinning circles far too small to find a way out. He promised he’ll see him again, but no matter how hard Din tried to convince himself of it — he always keeps his promises, keeps his word, doesn’t he? And this is a promise he could never break, not ever, _ever_ — he just couldn’t get rid of the gnawing doubt and the hollow feeling in his chest, the thought of never seeing the child — his _son_ — ever again creeping up on him, constantly lurking at the edges of his consciousness as a dark shadow longing to spread, to poison his every waking moment. _He’s gone. He’s safe now, he’s with his own people. He’s_ home _now. Your obligation ends here. This is the way._

The warm, welcoming smile that had greeted Din faded as the marshal’s face fell. “But— wh— —"

_He’s home now and you don’t even know where it is._

Din had managed to keep himself calm and collected through the journey to Tatooine, clammed up and silently staring out of the window of the Slave I, the Darksaber heavy in his hands. He had pointedly ignored the pitying, smotheringly emotional glances and the careful inquiries about his intentions and oddly chosen destination.

_This is the way,_ he had reminded himself. He was a warrior, a hunter, a survivor — faceless, nameless, and deadly. Mind clear, focus unbreakable. He was an expert at remaining level-headed and undisturbed through difficulties, even in the face of mortal danger. Why should following through with his obligation suddenly cause him distress? Was he not upholding his creed — _but you have broken it and are not even worthy of it anymore, are you?_ — by taking care of the foundling and bringing him to his own people? He did what he had to do. The child was too powerful and in danger, he needed training to be able to protect himself. This was levels above Din’s abilities — he certainly possessed no magic powers. This had to be done, the child was now safe. There was no other way.

_He’s better off without you now._

He didn’t really even know what it was exactly that made him ask to be dropped off at Mos Eisley. He had wanted a place where he could pause for a moment to recuperate from everything that had passed. The endless deserts of Tatooine could easily provide a solitary refuge for him to gather his thoughts, he reasoned to himself. Afterwards, it could be easy to find a way to acquire a new ship to replace the Razor Crest — the nest of vice that Mos Eisley was would certainly have multiple choices for potentially high-paying jobs on offer. Glinting at the back of Din’s mind, however, had been bright hazel eyes and a smile that had followed Din in his dreams. He had tried to push aside the achingly tempting thought of being able to _return_ somewhere after finding himself lost and hollow with nothing but unknown and uninviting paths ahead of him.

As it stood, however, Din had quickly and perhaps unsurprisingly found himself on the back of a cheap rental speeder bike headed towards Mos Pelgo.

Now, standing at the doorway of the man he had met only once before, who had somehow entrenched himself so deeply into Din’s mind ( _heart_ ) with just his warm eyes and easy-going smile, he had finally actually said it out loud — _he is gone_ — and suddenly everything felt so much more real and final. He couldn’t look up at Cobb’s face, feeling as though his gaze would betray the turmoil within even through his visor.

_You’re never seeing him again. Never. Never. He’s gone._

Cobb took a tentative step towards Din. “What happened?” he asked in a confused voice. Din opened his mouth and closed it again, unable to find words, and shook his head. He could feel his chest tightening and an uncomfortable feeling rising in his throat. It hurt.

_Grogu_.

Din felt his throat closing up even further as a tidal wave of _I have lost everything I held dear_ crashed over him. He felt both too heavy and too light at once, missing the familiar weight of the child in his arms while gravity suddenly seemed to kick into high gear.

Din suddenly drew in a sharp, whining breath and bent forward, trying to stay up with his hands on his knees. _YoucouldnotprotectandprovideforyoursonandnowheisGONE_. Another high-pitched breath, and another, and another, at a faster pace. The darkness from the edges of his consciousness, so carefully held at bay, was seeping in, Din’s concentration failing, losing control, a chaotic spiral. _Youare_ never _seeinghimagain_.

Cobb was swiftly at Din’s side. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He had his hands on Din’s back and shoulder, guiding the shaking man towards the couch in the middle of the small living room. Hushed words of comfort and reassurance: “Come on, come here, it’s okay. It’s okay, don’t worry, it’s okay.”

It was not okay. _It will never be okay, you lost him_. Din stumbled to the couch, his mind racing and head spinning. Oxygen seemed to disappear from the room that felt far too small and warm all of a sudden. Cobb sat down next to him at an angle, his hands still on Din, attempting to ground him with steady, soothing circular motions across his back. “There, now, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he kept murmuring under his breath. Din tried to focus on breathing.

_Concentrate. This is the way._

His breath still shaky and uneven, Din leaned forward and buried the front of his helmet in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. _Get a grip, Djarin_. Unfettered displays of emotion — at least of those besides righteous fury — had not been encouraged in the steely upbringing of his people and Din had learned early to keep a calm façade at all times. His sudden outburst left him feeling like a stranger to himself, a sense of shame on top of the crushing feeling of regret already weighing him down. He fought to regain his composure, to wrap his unexpectedly escaped emotions up tightly, to hide them safely out of sight and mind. Cobb kept whispering vague, comforting nothings and lowered a hand from Din’s shoulder on to his vambrace.

_Breathe._

Slowly, Din’s head did start clearing up. The unfamiliarly intimate presence of the other man was unexpectedly pacifying. As Din’s thoughts were slowing down and returning to their usual patterns, he became acutely aware of the hand circling on his back, steady and solid. Din stared down at his hands, still leaning on his elbows steadied over his knees, and his gaze travelled up Cobb’s other hand resting on his arm. It somehow felt much heavier than a human hand should. Din blinked and his mind felt empty.

Cobb evidently took note of Din slightly easing up and slowed his hand down to rest on Din’s shoulder blade. Din kept his gaze firmly lowered but could hear the relieved smile in Cobb’s voice. “There, it’s okay, yeah?” Cobb gave the unyielding vambrace a squeeze and Din swallowed.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“What happened?” Tender fingers were again stroking Din’s back, as if bracing for another wave of emotion.

“He’s—” Inhale, exhale. “He’s with his own people now.”

Cobb voiced a barely audible empathetic _hmm_ laded with concern.

“He’s safe now,” Din said in an attempt to reassure both Cobb and himself. “I completed my mission.”

The hand on his back moved again in slightly larger motions. Din couldn’t bear to look up.

“Still. I just.” Din breathed shakily. “I just _miss_ him.” The words sounded foreign and Din shocked himself with how easily they came out. Missing someone was not exactly new for Din; he had built his whole life upon a bedrock of loss and grief. However, the shock and devastation he had felt after his parents’ death had been easily channelled into dedication to his adoptive community. He had spent his life training and fighting to protect that community, to protect both what it had given him and the children that came after him, lost and scared, just as Din had also been. The loss of his parents ultimately propelled him forwards and gave his life a purpose, now mostly a static background noise of his life.

This was a different kind of loss. This time, no one had swooped in to carry him away into a whole new life, even though he felt like his own had once again come tumbling down. Instead, he was suddenly left to come to terms with the loss, his life, and his own choices alone, stuck in the empty banality of his life in the ruins of everything he used to have. This time, the finality of the loss was ambivalent, the uncertainty giving room to both hope and discouragement, to possibilities and failures — to endless _what ifs_ and sleepless nights.

Missing someone like _this_ was new. Din had become used to a solitary life, drawing his sense of belonging in the galaxy from his creed, the Mandalorian way bringing his life meaning, kinship, and fulfilment. He had not forged close personal relationships. His comrades were kept at a proper distance, each acknowledging the precarity of their lives underground and the potential high cost of emotional bonds. He kept the dead in his remembrances and mourned for those who had been lost, but the barrier he had built around himself had so far kept him safe and solid. Companionship, attachment, love — these were new. Now that Grogu had filled a hole in his life Din hadn’t even realized existed, the sudden loneliness struck him like a blaster cannon to the chest.

“I wish I could’ve been enough. To take care of him.” Din was unable to stop the sudden sentimental confessions from flowing out. He furrowed his brow in frustration.

Compassion completely unhindered by lack of knowledge about details of the crisis underway, Cobb moved closer still.

“To protect him.” Din felt like he was rambling. Had he lost his mind? Was he poisoned? He swallowed and continued, so quietly he was certain his vocoder could not pick it up, “To be a father.”

_This is what you get for forming a bond, for becoming attached. For loving_. At the back of his mind, Din found himself wishing — selfishly, he knew, but he felt so lost, small, and lonely he couldn’t bring himself to stay noble — that he hadn’t found the Jedi after all.

Another squeeze on the vambrace, another low noise of support and understanding. Din felt like he was drowning in the empathy — no, _pity_.

_Pull yourself together_.

“I’m sorry. This is— uncharacteristic of me.” He straightened his back, forced his shoulders down, and rested his hands on his knees. The hand on his arm pulled away and Din felt slightly more level-headed again.

Cobb opened his mouth to speak, but Din was faster to continue. “I shouldn’t have just barged in here.” The man whose living room he suddenly found himself having a small breakdown in was practically a stranger. What had he been thinking, coming here like this? He made a movement to rise up from the couch, to escape, ride out to the endless desert, and hopefully forget all about this embarrassing outburst.

“Mando, it’s okay,” Cobb said, breaking Din’s train of thought while gently holding him down by the shoulder. “It’s okay, don’t you worry about it. You’re always welcome here.” Cobb gave Din’s shoulder a squeeze and moved closer to the edge of the couch in an attempt to align himself into Din’s field of vision, steadfastly focused on the opposite wall. “Yeah?”

Din forced himself to glance at the other man. Cobb was looking at him intensely, eyes full of compassion but mouth drawn to a serious line, eyebrows slightly raised. “Yeah?” he repeated at Din’s silence.

Din swallowed. “Uh, yeah. Thank you.” Cobb’s eyes crinkled at the corners as an earnest smile spread across his face once more, lighting up the whole room. He rubbed Din’s pauldron and gave it a couple of casual pats. Din blinked. He noticed his mouth was slightly agape, gaze stuck on Cobb, and was unspeakably grateful for his helmet. He hastily closed his mouth and looked down at his hands. The aching sense of emptiness within his chest was slowly making way for tumultuous confusion, an odd feeling somewhere in his chest. He did not know what he was actually expecting when he knocked on the door of the Mos Pelgo marshal, but turning a pivotal emotional crisis into a whole new one was definitely not on the list.

“Now, I’m sorry it’s happening under circumstances like this, but I am glad to see you again.” Cobb’s expression turned more serious when acknowledging the loss that had led the Mandalorian to trudge his way to the settlement in the middle of nowhere. “I’m sorry about the little one.” His eyes skittered across Din’s visor, vainly seeking eye contact. “I know he means a lot to you.”

Unsure what to make of the marshal’s unbearable kindness and apparent concern for Din’s state of mind, Din stayed silent for a moment. Now that the worst flare of sorrow had passed, he found it relieving to be able to tell someone what had happened, to finally let out the thoughts he had kept inside until they couldn’t be contained any longer. “He does. But his powers — I couldn’t even understand them. He _needed_ training to be safe. I had to leave him in more capable hands.” The words of reassurance Din had been repeating to himself came out certain and rehearsed. “This is the way.”

Cobb was silent for a moment, eyes flickering down and back up to look at Din again. “He sure is a special little fella, isn’t he?”

Grogu _was_ special. When Grogu was carried away with a swish of a cape by someone who had mowed down the squad of dark troopers with elegance and precision Din had never witnessed before, he felt a chasm open up between his child and himself. He had known, of course, that Grogu was different, but the implications and potential of the powers Grogu had coyly exhibited had not quite dawned on Din before. Grogu controlled forces Din couldn’t even begin to understand and belonged to a world completely divorced from what Din knew. Din’s world was brutal and physical, filled with petty criminals and ration bars for weeks on end. Not only was it not a proper environment for a small child, it also felt much too small and insignificant for someone like Grogu — like raising a starbird among swamp slugs.

“He is.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Din was again staring at his hands with his eyes unfocused. Cobb opened his mouth to speak but closed it instead, seemingly unable to find words suitable for the gravity of the situation.

“Listen, why don’t I go cook us up some dinner. I’m famished, and I’m sure you’ll also feel a whole lotta better once you’ve had some rest and something to eat,” Cobb finally suggested, eyeing Din’s weary frame. “The fresher is down the corridor if you need it, and you can go on and take the bedroom next to it.” A kind, genuine smile still on his face, Cobb gave Din’s pauldron a few more pats before rising up from the couch. He lingered for a short moment and let his hand rest on Din’s shoulder. “Everything will be alright, don’t you worry.”

“Thank you,” Din replied quietly. “I really don’t wish to impose.”

“Nonsense! Don’t think I wouldn’t find you another place to stay if I didn’t want you here.” Cobb was already moving towards the direction of his small kitchen. “Now go on and get settled, I’ll bring the food to your room.”

Din sighed and looked down at himself. He looked like shit; he was covered in sand from the long speeder bike ride and his boots were downright grimy. Perhaps he really should go get cleaned up. He glanced over at Cobb who was beginning to take out some pots and pans for cooking.

Din stood up and walked over to the bedroom. It was small, as was the rest of the house, but it seemed comfy and inviting. Din set his staff against the wall and sat down at the bed to take off his boots. Feeling exhaustion set in, he decided to lie down for a brief moment before getting up to clean his armour. The bed felt surprisingly nice, and Din remembered he hadn’t slept in a proper bed in quite a while. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. The urge to run away was dissipating, making way for a peaceful stillness. This was not his home, but it was certainly _a_ home. It felt like a place out of time and space, a sanctuary in another dimension, detached from reality. Din could only hear Cobb whistling in the kitchen and the distant buzz of a generator. Around them, the desert stretched out silently.

The crossbody satchel Din hadn’t bothered to take off yet was lying on the bed pressed to his side, nonbreathing and a bit too heavy but about the right size to feel somewhat familiar — close enough to guide Din into dreamlike memories. He closed his eyes and cradled the bag in the nook of his arm. He could almost feel Grogu’s presence and a sense of calm washed over him.

When Cobb came down to knock at the door with the dinner, Din was already fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the first bit of creative writing I've done in English, I hope it was readable! I know nothing about grammar and have no idea what I'm doing with commas.
> 
> You can also find me @ heavydistraction dot tumblr dot com.


End file.
